


Still Can't Sleep

by memes4gayteens



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Angst, LIKE A LOT OF ANGST, but just in case, ciel's slowly losing his mind too, the rape is briefly mentioned and the violence isnt too bad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-18
Updated: 2015-11-18
Packaged: 2018-05-02 05:26:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5235902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/memes4gayteens/pseuds/memes4gayteens
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To be honest, a part of both boys-no matter how small-hopes that there's still some good in them, some part of their goddamn soul that's not tainted by sin just to give their predators a taste of bitterness. </p>
<p>A taste of something utterly vile and disgusting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Still Can't Sleep

**Author's Note:**

> This is a re-post of a fic I wrote on tumblr a long time ago, and I fixed it up a bit.

It's those aspects about someone that no one can ever really comprehend. Whether it be how they function, their likes or dislikes, morals and values they hold dear, any and all of that. It can be anything and everything about a single person that can drive someone completely insane, or maybe it's something small about them that someone else planted into their head. Something someone scrutinized and declared as unholy and not worth the time of day.

It can go every possible way and there's so many ways to look at these kinds of things; thus, it gets very confusing. 

Especially when they have demon butlers practically breathing down their necks, waiting to devour their sin covered souls. To be honest, a part of both boys-no matter how small-hopes that there's still some good in them, some part of their goddamn soul that's not tainted by sin just to give their predators a taste of bitterness. 

A taste of something utterly vile and disgusting.

The fair haired blond is dying though. Alois is dying, and it's dawning on Ciel that maybe he's a complete fool for trusting every manipulative word out of Sebastian's mouth. He's a complete fool for murdering the only person who could even come anywhere near close to understanding him; to possibly even helping him.

He's a fucking fool.

Alois' pulse is slowing. The rhythm of his heart pounding against his rib cage is faint. It's barely there at all, and he's so pale, but not the usual milky white that goes seemingly unblemished. It's a sickly white that makes the worn out blond want to peel off his skin just to find something less terrible underneath.

Oh, if only they knew. If only they knew Alois let an old man use his body as he pleased for survival, but ignorance is bliss and such traumatic details for the blond that for Ciel didn't matter at all are beyond damaging. To think that once Alois dreamed of being happy; of being truly content, but now he knows that people like him don't get happy endings.

He lays in bed and cries.

Alois is dying. He could curl into himself from the pain only to cause more agony and excessive bleeding, but maybe that's what he wants. Maybe bleeding out in a bed with sterile white sheets is pathetic, but he's never been particularly brave. He's never been particularly grand, not like he had always hoped to be, and at this point it isn't even worth it.

What's the point now?

Ciel can't sleep. He'll stay in his office supposedly doing paper work when in reality he'll stare at the same infuriating document late at night with a candle by his side. The sun will vanish and soon the moonlight filters through the windows, and that's when Ciel knows there's no point in pretending. He continues to do so, though, because Sebastian will utter the same words each day, each and every wretched day, "young master, are you alright?"

No, no, he can't sleep. He's not doing alright-he's losing his mind.

Alois is dying. The bandages covering his abdomen are always covered in browning crimson, and he can't help but bitterly wonder if the wound is infected yet. His ice blue eyes are losing all light, and Claude couldn't give two shits about him while Hannah watches over him. She takes care of him with such ease, with such a gentle nature he forgets to exhale when she wipes the sweat from his forehead. She hums soft songs and asks questions about him because she genuinely cares for him. He should have known.

He's a fucking fool.

Ciel can't sleep. Ciel can't fucking sleep because how could he have done such a thing? He murdered someone who could have understood him and it's eating at him day in and day out.

He can't sleep.

Alois is dying. He can feel his body relax, his eyes feel heavy and they eventually close. The rise and fall of his chest is practically invisible and the rhythm of his heart so slow, so unnoticeable.

What's the point now?

Ciel's not sleeping because now he's got a letter from the boy he killed, a brief life story and the words, "hey Ciel, for the death of your parents, it's okay to blame me," but it's not. It's not okay.

Ciel still can't sleep.


End file.
